Natural Love
by Zip Goes A Million
Summary: Tom has been admiring Sybil across the university library for a while now. When the two bump into each other at a univeristy-run political event, sparks fly. A relationship quickly forms between the two of them, which, before long, is challenged to the greatest extent. Can their love stand the test?
1. Chapter 1

_I got the idea for this fic from a series of pic-sets on Tumblr posted by TheYankeeCountess. Her ideas inspired me to write this. It's going to be a three-shot, I think. I can't promise that I'll get it all written soon because I have exams coming up very very soon, but I wanted to start this and post it here. In time, two more chapters will be coming. This chapter is not M-rated or at all angsty, but that will come in the later chapters. I haven't even read through this since writing it, so I apologise for any mistakes - they're all my fault._

* * *

 **Natural Love: Chapter 1**

Tom Branson was sitting in his university library as he did every Thursday afternoon. Tom was in his second year studying history. History had always been his passion, though he had been told by his history teacher at school that he would never make a true historian because he was not impartial enough. Tom had a tendency to look at things through a political screen, causing him to take sides and look at evidence in a tilted way. Nevertheless, this had not discouraged him from applying to university to study history. He had decided to do a general history course where he could choose his modules, as he wasn't sure which parts of history he found most interesting. He loved modern history, particularly the politics of Great Britain and Ireland over the recent few centuries, but he also found interest in the Middle Ages. When he had the chance to choose his modules, he made sure that he had a mixture of all of his interests in order to satisfy all bases.

Due to having so many self-study hours in comparison to other courses, Tom found himself practically living in the library. A lot of his friends would spend their self-study time in their own rooms or studying in groups together, but Tom knew that he worked better when he was surrounded by other people working, when it was practically silent and when he didn't have the distractions of his own room to contend with. Working in the library every day had provided Tom with high percentages in his assignments, achieving mostly firsts. That is, until he spotted a girl sitting opposite him one day. And once he had spotted her once, he noticed her every time she walked into the library. Her hair was made of flowing, dark waves, usually pulled into a ponytail. Her eyes were grey in some lights, bright blue in others. Tom had watched her enough to know that she was very studious. Some people would sit in the library with their books in front of them, but then spend an hour on their phone. This girl wasn't like that. Every second that she spent in the library was well spent writing notes or reading and highlighting or drawing and labelling diagrams. Every minute was utilised to her best ability. No doubt she was at the top of her class.

* * *

"Sixty three percent?" Thomas said indignantly, looking at Tom's most recent essay. "You're slipping, mate."

Thomas Barrow was one of Tom's closest friends. They had met when they were in sixth form and had then carried on to the same university, with Tom studying history and Thomas studying geography. They lived in the same halls during their first year and now they lived in the same house, along with three others – Alfred, Daisy and Edna. Thomas was looking at Tom's pile of papers that he had left on the kitchen table when he had come home a few hours ago. Now that they were making dinner for the household, the pile had to be moved out of the way.

"It's only one essay. It's not the end of the world," Tom said as he lifted five plates off the shelf and stirred the pasta.

"One essay. That's how it starts, you know. It's all downhill from here," Thomas teased.

"Don't be ridiculous," Tom said jokingly.

"Okay, but really, what's happened? You usually get firsts, Tom."

"I guess I've just been a bit distracted. I've been working more in the pub for extra money and I guess it's making me more tired during the week," Tom said. If Tom wasn't working in the library, he was in the pub. Whilst his friends would go to the pub to drink the evening away, Tom would be pouring drinks and waiting tables. It wasn't the most glamorous job in the world, but it gave Tom a little extra cash. In addition, he played guitar and sang once or twice a week on the tiny corner stage of the pub with a group of friends. It didn't really gain him any extra money – the odd pound here and there – but it kept him playing. He'd always thought it important to keep his hobbies going so as not to be entirely consumed by his history course.

"That can't be the only reason. Even I've noticed that you've been more distracted at home. Even in the evenings. You don't read as much anymore. You spend more time sitting with a beer and staring off into the middle distance. You've got to be thinking about something," Thomas urged.

Tom didn't reply straight away. He had clearly heard the question, but was avoiding it by focusing on the food.

"Hang on," Thomas said a tad too loudly. "Have you met someone? Is it a girl?"

Again, Tom didn't answer.

"It is, isn't it?" Thomas asked.

"Well, sort of."

Thomas said nothing, but gave Tom a look as if to ask for an expansion on the statement.

"I haven't exactly met her. I've just seen her around, you know, in the library and around campus," Tom explained.

"Who is she? Do you know her name?" Thomas pressed.

"I'm not sure. I've never spoken to her, but I think I've heard people call her Sybil."

"You don't mean Sybil Crawley, do you?" Thomas asked.

"I don't know her surname."

"Tom, Sybil's not exactly a common name," Thomas said, typing something on his phone. He turned it around and showed the screen to Tom. "Is this her?"

Tom looked at Sybil's Facebook profile picture. "Yeah, looks like her."

"Oh, Tom, you don't want to get entangled with the likes of her."

"What do you mean _the likes of her_?" Tom asked, oddly offended by Thomas' description.

At that moment, Daisy and Edna walked in.

"Is food ready?" Edna asked.

"It'll be ready in a second," Tom said politely.

"Do you know who Sybil Crawley is?" Thomas asked the girls almost before Tom had finished talking.

"I've heard of her," Daisy said. "Why?"

"Tom has the hots for her," Thomas explained.

"I don't have the hots for her," Tom said, defending himself.

"Good," Edna said, walking across the room to sit at the table. "You shouldn't get caught up with people like her."

"What do you mean _people like her_?

"She's posh," Edna said simply.

"So? Not all posh people are horrid. She seems quite nice to me," Tom said.

"How can you tell? You've never actually spoken to her," Thomas pointed out.

"You haven't spoken to her?" Edna asked, shocked. "Tom, don't go near her. She's a blue-blooded aristo."

"And how can _you_ tell _that_? You haven't ever spoken to her either, have you?" Tom asked, accusingly, trying to defend Sybil in her absence.

"No, but word gets around," Edna said.

"She's no good, Tom. If you fall for her, you'll be in trouble," Thomas added.

At this point, Tom turned to finish up the cooking, which Daisy had taken over since Tom had been caught up in arguing over his new-found crush. He ignored Thomas and Edna and went to fetch Alfred from the front room. Hopefully the group would find a new line of discussion so that Tom wouldn't have to sit through an interrogation whilst eating dinner.

* * *

The following evening, Tom was attending a political debate on immigration, hosted by the university's politics society. It was a calm and relaxed atmosphere, but at times intense, particularly during the questions and discussion section at the end. When Tom came out of the lecture theatre it was mild weather. A little bit windy, but quite warm and muggy. He stood outside by the steps, talking to one of his history lecturers who had also attended the debate. History and politics seemed to go hand in hand. After all, a lot of history wouldn't have happened if politics hadn't got in the way.

Just as Tom finished his conversation with his lecturer, someone crashed into the back of him. He whipped around to see what had happened, only to find Sybil standing in front of him, her books and folders scattered all over the ground with paper spilling out in all directions.

"I'm so sorry!" she blurted out before Tom could say anything.

"Ne-never mind; no harm done," Tom stuttered. He thought it odd to see her here. He didn't know many _blue-blooded aristos_ who would willingly go to a political debate. Maybe Thomas and Edna had been wrong about her. From an aristocratic background, she may be, but that didn't mean she had to behave like an aristocrat. Tom bent to pick up some of the books from the ground. "Do you often bring this much stuff to a political debate?" he asked.

"Um," Sybil said, clearly flustered that she'd walked into him and dropped all of her belongings. "I came here straight from a lecture. I didn't have time to go home to drop off all my stuff," she said, taking the books from Tom's hands and adding them to the growing pile in her arms.

Tom picked up the final folder and looked at the spine. "Human anatomy," he read aloud. "Are you studying medicine?"

"Yeah, second year," Sybil replied. "Thanks for helping to pick up my notes."

"No problem," he replied. "I'm Tom, by the way."

"Sybil," she said in return. She looked at him with a sideways glance. "Have I seen you before?"

"Possibly," Tom said. "If you did it was most likely in the library or the pub."

"Ah, yes," Sybil said, suddenly remembering where she'd seen his face. "You spend a lot of time in the library, don't you?"

"Sometimes I think I spend all my time there and do nothing else," he said with a chuckle.

"I know the feeling," Sybil laughed. "I sometimes feel that I never leave the labs, and if I do, it's just to fetch a coffee and then I'm back to working again."

"It will all pay off in the end, I suppose," Tom said.

"Yeah, hopefully," Sybil said. "Your grades must be quite good if you spend all your time in the library."

 _Well they were until you came into my life_ , Tom thought. "I do alright."

"Are you studying politics?"

"No, history," Tom replied. "Mostly 20th century British history." At this point he noticed how uncomfortable Sybil looked, standing with an armful of files and books. "Um, do you want me to hold something? You're carrying far too much. It can't be good for you," Tom said sympathetically.

"Yeah, thanks," Sybil said, allowing Tom to take some layers off the top of her pile. "You would think that doing medicine I would know what carrying this much could do to one's back."

"Do you want to keep talking? You know, where we can put all this stuff down? Go to the pub or something?" Tom suggested, feeling his stomach tie into knots, worrying that she might not want to continue their conversation.

"Yes," Sybil said without missing a beat. "I'd like that."

With that, Tom led Sybil to his car where they piled Sybil's work up in the back seats. They hopped in the front and Tom drove them a little across town to the pub he knew all too well. As they walked in, Tom got heckled at by his mates who worked there with him, saying that he loved them so much that he couldn't stay away and such like. Sybil thought it was sweet that he had such good relationships with his work mates, but didn't say anything. Instead, she smiled to herself and allowed Tom to lead her to a free table for two after having ordered non-alcoholic drinks for themselves. Tom was driving, so daren't drink, and Sybil didn't think she could drink if he wasn't. Surely that would be a bit rude? Besides, she knew that conversation would go slowly downhill if she started drinking anything.

Once they were seated together, Tom asked, "How did you find the debate?"

"Interesting," Sybil said. "But really there's only one side to the argument of immigration as far as I can see."

"And that side is…" Tom prompted.

"There's nothing wrong with immigration. My mother moved over here from America and she's never caused this country any problems." She paused. "You agree with me, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Tom said. "I'm a born and bred Irishman, if you hadn't already got that from the accent."

Sybil could feel her cheeks blushing. "Yeah, I had spotted that," she said quietly.

"Immigration isn't the problem. It's the old stigma against immigrants that's the problem. And it's made worse when people hold up that stigma just because they don't know the whole story."

"I couldn't agree more," Sybil said. "How long have you been in England then?"

"Just since I started university. I'm in my third year now."

"Why England then? Why not study in Ireland?" Sybil asked.

"I just wanted something a bit different, I suppose. I wanted to get away and have a bit of independence. It was a bit tough to leave my family, but I don't regret it."

"Are you close with your family?"

"Very," Tom said. "Especially with my little sister. Sophie's five years younger than me, but we were practically inseparable until I put an ocean between us. Are you close with your family?"

"Not exactly," Sybil sighed. "I've got two sisters, both older, and they're constantly bickering with each other. I tend to act as mediator between them. Other than that I'm friendly with my mum, but my dad and I are very different in practically every way. We clash a lot, so we've sort of learned that it's best if we avoid each other for the most part."

"That's a shame. I don't know what I'd do without my sister. My dad died when I was twelve and I think that's what brought us closer together. We had to look after each other and together we had to make sure my mum didn't completely lose it," Tom explained.

As the evening drew on, their conversation deepened, as did their connection. Tom hadn't felt something this strong with a woman ever before. He'd had his fair share of girlfriends, but none of those relationships felt as natural as this one. This one that had lasted less than an hour seemed stronger than some that had lasted a few years. Tom wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling, but he knew it was strong and that he couldn't let it go without a fight.

Eventually, they got to the end of their drinks and slowly made their way out of the pub. It was obvious that they didn't want to leave each other's company. Tom drove Sybil home, with Sybl giving him directions on the way, yet still they didn't want to part.

"Do you wanna come in for a moment?" Sybil asked, clinging onto every second they had together. "If nothing else, I could use the help carrying all of my folders in."

"Yeah, I'd love to come in," Tom said. This girl was special. Every moment counted. Every second was important.


	2. Chapter 2

_Here comes the smut! No angst yet, but that will be coming soon. Anyway, hope you like it. Please leave a review if you have a spare second after reading._

* * *

 **Natural Love: Chapter 2**

Sybil hadn't intended it to go this far. A cup of tea was all she was thinking; maybe a glass of wine. Jesus Christ, she had met this man only a few hours ago. But she couldn't seem to hold herself back, no matter how hard she tried. It didn't take long for the two of them to go from walking through the front door to making their way to Sybil's bedroom.

Sybil's folders had been abandoned on the kitchen table. They had gone to the kitchen first because Sybil really had planned to make them tea. That was all. Sybil knew that the feelings she had for Tom were ridiculous. Surely being _this_ attracted to someone you've only known for a few hours wasn't normal. But Sybil couldn't deny her feelings. And, maybe she was imagining it, but it seemed as though Tom was feeling something similar towards her. He kept looking at her with sideways glances, almost afraid to look her in the eye. Then, just once, he looked at her directly, and she stared back at him for a number of seconds. That's where it began.

Tom stepped closer to her, but paused to say, "May I?" to which Sybil replied,

"Yes," before stepping forward herself and planting her lips firmly on his.

The force with which Sybil had flung herself at him caused him to stumble backwards slightly. He found his feet again and brought Sybil closer to him to continue kissing her. Her lips were soft and tasted of the cranberry juice she had drunk at the pub. She clearly felt a strong attraction for Tom, with her tongue trying to find its way into Tom's own mouth.

"Follow me," she whispered after a few frantic minutes of lips-on-lips contact. She took Tom by the hand and led him through the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom. She turned the light on as they entered the room and instantly took off her top, dropping it down to the floor.

"Are you sure?" Tom asked, wary that she might regret her decision to have sex with a man she barely knew.

"Positive," Sybil said, looking Tom straight in the eye.

Tom pulled off his own top and dropped it next to Sybil's. Sybil turned Tom around and pushed him backwards, her hands flat on his chest, until he fell backwards onto the bed. She straddled him and leant down to kiss him, her hands moving up to pull on his hair.

He ran his hands up and down her bare sides, wishing that he could feel her skin without her bra in the way. He smoothed his hand over her back and unhooked her bra with no protestation from her. The straps fell down her shoulders and she pulled them off her arms and threw the garment off the bed. Sybil sat up slightly and allowed Tom to look at her bare breasts. She took his hand and softly placed it over her breast, encouraging him to touch her.

Tom sat up slightly, Sybil still straddling him and he traced a finger over her stomach, up her waist and around her nipples, each in turn. All he could think about was how perfectly formed her body was. Her skin was soft, just as her lips were, though it wasn't as tanned as he had expected it to be. Judging from the faint tan lines on her arms, she was the sort of person who spent a decent amount of time in the sun, but only when wearing tops or dresses that covered most of her torso. She clearly wasn't the sort of girl to show off what she had to everybody who walked by, which Tom admired, considering that what she had was a gorgeous body.

Sybil reached down and caressed Tom's cock through the fabric of his jeans. It was already hard, but this didn't stop Sybil. She used both hands to undo his jeans and then slipped one hand down the front, making Tom whimper helplessly.

Tom couldn't let Sybil do all the hard work, so he returned the favour by placing a series of soft kisses around, and then on, her nipples, causing her to hum in pleasure. He then turned his attention to Sybil's own jeans. They were tight fitting, so he couldn't comfortably undo them and place his hand down them as she had done to him. He undid them and Sybil took the hint. She shimmied off Tom's lap and kicked her jeans off, along with her underwear, giving Tom a chance to do the same. They repositioned themselves on the bed with Sybil underneath Tom.

Tom began by kissing from her knee up to her core, once on each leg. He placed a solitary very gentle kiss on her wet centre, teasing her. She thrusted her hips up towards him, but he moved on. He trailed his tongue slowly along her stomach and then up between her breasts. He kissed the dip between her collar bones and then sowed a trail of kisses along her jawline. He reached her mouth and she moaned gently. He left a final trail of kisses down the centre of her body, between her breasts and over her stomach until he reached the wetness of her core. He kissed there softly, as he had done before, and again he pulled away as Sybil pushed her hips up towards him. But this time, he didn't turn his attention away from the area entirely. He gently fondled Sybil's clitoris with one finger, as he ran his thumb up and down her wet lips. Each time he moved his finger past her opening, she breathed in sharply. Clearly she wanted him. He gently inserted one finger, then two, then three, turning them upwards to stroke her G-spot.

Sybil let out a groan and said, "Yes, oh God, Tom, yes!"

Her inner walls closed around Tom's fingers and he slowly pulled his hands away from her centre. He moved to hover over her body and slowly he rubbed his hard cock over her wet lips. She raised her hips towards him, clearly wanting more.

"I haven't got any condoms," Tom said, only now realising. He had expected to end his day with a political rally, not with sex at someone else's house. Sybil quickly rolled over to open her bedside drawer and proceeded to pass him one. "Thanks," he said, quickly taking it out of its wrapper and rolling it onto himself.

Repositioning himself again, he slowly slipped into her. She threw her head back with joy and let out a long groan. She reached one hand down to rub her own clit as he began to pump his hips against hers. Sybil and Tom were each thrusting at different rates, so their movements were erratic and not the most comfortable in the world. But they continued on regardless. Sybil's groans were matched with Tom's, each of them getting progressively louder as the tension within their bodies built. Each time Sybil said Tom's name, he reciprocated by saying hers.

Before they had reached their climax, Tom slowed his action, causing Sybil to whimper. He leant forward and kissed Sybil's ear, her jawline and her cheek. She moaned deeply and pulled at Tom's hair. Tom's evening stubble was coarse against her skin, increasing the eroticism of the moment, if that was at all possible.

Sybil pushed her hips up against Tom's and he returned the favour. With Sybil still pulling at his hair and holding onto his upper arms, he increased the speed of his movements until the suspense that had been building within them had reached its end and dissipated.

Tom fell beside Sybil and Sybil moved on top of him. Though her breathing was heavy and irregular, she straddled him and kissed him deeply on the lips. Tom had expected Sybil to get her breath back before she started anything else, but it had been almost instant. She trailed kisses along his defined jaw, relishing the feel of his stubble against her lips.

Tom fondled Sybil's breasts, taking pleasure from the smooth feel of her skin against his fingers. Her nipples were still hard, so he flicked them gently, making Sybil groan once again.

"Do you want to go again?" Sybil said softly, still leaving kiss trails over Tom's chest.

"I'm not ready yet," Tom said, wishing to God that he was.

"I can fix that," Sybil said. She ground her hips against his in an attempt to stimulate him again. She then reached one hand down between them to stoke his penis and reached up with the rest of her body to gently kiss his neck and ear. Before long, Tom was fully prepared for another shot.

* * *

The next morning, Tom woke up with Sybil in his arms. The previous night had been spectacular. They had had sex three times, almost with no break between each session. Each time had been more intense and more frantic, as they became comfortable with one another and felt greater desire. Tom had known Sybil for just a little over 12 hours, during most of which they had been sleeping or fucking, leaving little time for actually getting to know one another. But despite this, it felt so natural to Tom to wake up with Sybil curled in his arms, with her hair sprawled out over the pillow, no doubt still full of the tangles which Tom had placed in it during last night's adventures.

Tom turned his head to look at the clock on Sybil's bedside table. 8:41 on a Saturday morning. Tom would usually have been up for an hour already and would be in the middle of a run. Tom thought it was important to have a bit of time to himself after a long week. His weekly Saturday morning run allowed him to spend some time alone, reflect a little on his week and get fit at the same time. Tom wasn't about to move now though. One week without a run surely couldn't do him any harm. Besides, it's not like he particularly needed to do more exercise after the workout he had had in this very bed some hours ago.

Sybil quietly stirred, shuffling her body weight slightly. She slowly opened her eyes and stretched her arms above her head. She rested one hand over Tom's torso and nuzzled into his shoulder, mumbling, "Morning."

"Good morning," Tom said back. He pulled his arm over to Sybil's and ran his hand up and down her upper arm.

Sybil twisted her head slightly and softly kissed Tom's shoulder. He leant his own head down to kiss Sybil through her hair.

"Last night," Sybil said, pausing to sit up a bit more so that she could look at Tom, "was remarkable."

"Last night you were remarkable," Tom said gently.

"Yeah, I'm not sure where it came from," Sybil said. "I'm not usually a sex on the first date kind of person."

"In your defence, I don't think either of us really realised that it was a date. It didn't feel like one, at least," Tom said. "There was no awkwardness there."

"Which is strange, really," Sybil said. "I've never felt that comfortable talking to anyone so soon after meeting them."

"Talking, or anything else, for that matter," Tom teased.

"Cheeky!" Sybil exclaimed, pushing Tom's shoulder away. Sybil shifted off the bed and said, "Do you want some breakfast?"

"Mm," Tom said, beginning to shift his own body out from under the covers.

"Meet me downstairs when you're ready then," Sybil said, tying a dressing gown around her body and walking out of the room, giving Tom a chance to get dressed in peace.

How did this feel so natural? How had she woken up wrapped in the arms of essentially a stranger and felt that it was so right? Sybil and Tom being together… it just felt like it was supposed to be.


	3. Chapter 3

_As per, I haven't really checked this. Hopefully this is angsty enough for you all. This chapter concludes this story, which was wonderfully inspired by The Yankee Countess. I hope you've enjoyed this story, and I'd really appreciate a review if you have._

* * *

 **Natural Love: Chapter 3**

After their first blissful night together came many more. They were spending more and more time together and were slowly becoming inseparable. After only a month of being together, Tom decided to move in with Sybil. Her house wasn't any bigger than his, but if he lived with her, he would only have to share with one other person, rather than four. His theory was that having more space would keep his head clearer in the run up to the final exams of the year. That is, if he could keep his mind off Sybil.

The two of them seemed to have found a good work-life balance. They spent their days either at university lectures, in the library or revising at home with each other. The fact that Tom was studying history and Sybil was doing medicine made no difference. Some of the time they revised in silence, sitting next to one another, and some of the time they would test each other on their respective subjects. To give themselves breaks from revising, they often spent their time doing chores around the house, though they remained practically attached at the hip. They both worked incredibly hard for their subjects, which meant that they were usually tired by the end of the day, but rarely so exhausted that they would pass up a round or two of sex to finish off the night.

* * *

Sybil and Tom were wrapped up in each other's limbs one evening after one such round, with the duvet twisted around them. After sex they often spoke to one another about their childhoods. It was from these conversations that Sybil found out about Tom's life in Ireland and Tom found out about Sybil's life at Downton. Knowing about their pasts made them feel closer to one another. Even they couldn't deny that their relationship had escalated very quickly and they didn't really know each other as well as they should. Knowing about each other's childhoods comforted them by giving the illusion that they had known each other for longer than they truly had.

"My uncle lived half way up a mountain," Tom said, as he held Sybil in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. "He lived about three hours' drive away, so we didn't see him that often, but when we did go and visit, I'd spend all my time walking up the mountain, usually on my own. I liked making new paths and finding different routes that nobody had ever walked before. They were hardly direct routes to the top, but I liked the time with just me and nature."

"Didn't your parents wonder where you were?" Sybil asked softly.

"At the beginning they did. But I loved it up in the mountains so much that they got used to the fact that I would be gone for hours at a time and would walk back to the house when I got hungry enough," Tom said with a nostalgic smile.

"It sounds lovely," Sybil said.

"I could take you up there at some point. I'd love to show you part of my childhood."

"I'd like that," Sybil said. "I could take you to Scotland, too. We have family who live up there and when I was little, my whole family would go on long walks. My sisters and I called it marsh-hopping because my dad would be the one leading the group, but he usually lost his bearings and we'd end up walking through marshes. As soon as we got ourselves out of one, he'd lead us into another!" Sybil remembered fondly.

"Here's an idea," Tom said. "After we've graduated, why don't we hike around the UK? Just us. We can spend a month or so hiking the length of Britain and Ireland. I can show you the hikes I know and you can show me what you know and we can find new places to hike together. You know, make it our thing?"

"I love that idea," Sybil said. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Sybil and Tom had finished their final exams, but hadn't returned home to their families yet. They had decided that they would rather spend some quality time together without the interruption of revision, rather than go their separate ways back to their families for the summer quite yet. Besides, some of their friends hadn't finished all of their exams yet, so by staying at university, they could wait for their whole group of friends to finish and then spend some time together as an entire group to celebrate the end of the academic year and the beginning of their summer holiday.

One Friday, a few weeks after their exams were finished Tom spent the day helping his history professor with an open day. It was late in the year and Tom had agreed to help prior to beginning his relationship with Sybil. He couldn't get out of it now, but Sybil didn't mind. Even with a relationship as good as theirs, they still needed some personal time every now and then.

After an entire day of trying to make the history department look good, Tom came home tired, but cheerful. He found Sybil sat on the sofa with her knees brought under her chin, staring blankly at the wall.

"Are you alright, love?" Tom said, walking towards Sybil and kissing the top of her head.

Sybil barely moved and didn't say anything.

"Syb?" Tom prompted. He sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong, love?"

"I'm late," Sybil said quietly. She moved so that she was sitting cross-legged and stared into her lap.

"Late for what?"

"My period's late," she said, looking Tom in the eye.

Sybil sensed Tom's breathing increase in pace and his hold on her became more rigid.

"You mean you're pregnant?" he asked with a shaky voice.

"I'm not sure. I haven't taken a test, but I'm _two weeks_ late. I've been a week late before, but never two. I can't think of any other reason for it other than that I might be pregnant," Sybil said, with tears forming in her eyes.

"Oh my God," Tom muttered to himself. He moved so that he could face Sybil more directly. "Sybil…"

"I don't know what to do," Sybil said, bursting into tears and falling into Tom's arms.

"We stick together. That's what we do. That's what we always do," Tom said, trying to comfort her.

"I can't have a baby now, Tom," Sybil said through her sobs.

"Syb, you can't know for sure that you're pregnant. We need to take this one day at a time. You're on birth control, and we always use a condom. Realistically, what are the chances that you're actually pregnant?" Tom asked.

"Like one percent," Sybil said, bringing her head up and looking at Tom, though she hadn't stopped crying. "But somebody has to be that one percent."

"Look, Sybil, nothing's certain," Tom said. "We just have to take it step by step.

"I can't keep it, Tom," Sybil said, wiping her tear-streaked cheeks. Sybil felt Tom tense up again. "Do you want to keep it?" Sybil said in a more accusatory tone than intended.

"I can't tell you what to do with your body, Syb," he said calmly. "Whatever you want to do, I'll be right by your side."

"Yeah, but I respect your feelings. It may be my body, but this is your baby too."

Tom didn't say anything, but he stood from the sofa and began pacing the floor.

"Tom, do you actually want to keep this baby?"

Still Tom didn't say anything in response.

"Tom, you can't blank me on this! We need to communicate if we want to make this work."

"Make what work? You're going to get rid of the baby anyway. It's obvious that you don't want to keep it!"

"But you do want to keep it! We need to find a solution that suits us both. That's what being a couple is about, Tom!" Sybil was now standing opposite Tom and voices were swiftly increasing in volume. "You can't hide your feelings from me, Tom. I need to know. I need to hear you say whether you want it or not."

"Why does it matter? It doesn't matter what I say, you'll go with what suits you best, regardless," Tom retorted.

"Where did you get that idea from?" Sybil shrieked.

"Because it's your body! You're going to be more affected by this baby so your decision has more weight."

"You aren't listening to a word I'm saying," Sybil said.

"Yeah because you're just using me to make this decision!" Tom said.

"No, I'm not! You're the one who isn't telling me what you really want!" Sybil hollered.

"You're impossible, Sybil!" Tom screamed.

With that, Sybil stormed out of the room. Tom could tell by the trail of slammed doors and heavy footsteps that Sybil had taken refuge in their bedroom. He sunk down onto the sofa, rested his elbows on his knees and let himself sob. Upstairs, Sybil was doing the same. She had thrown herself diagonally onto their bed, face down, and was bawling into a pillow.

During their time crying alone in separate rooms, both of their minds were running riot. What they didn't realise is that the two of them were thinking along the same lines.

 _Our relationship is over. We can't fight like this and stay together._

 _If one of us wants to keep it and the other doesn't, are we compatible enough to stay together?_

 _If we have this baby, our futures will be forever changed. Our futures will be ruined._

 _If we don't have this baby, we might regret it forever._

 _We don't even know for sure whether there is a baby._

 _We have to fight for our relationship now. We can't let this be over._

Eventually, Tom got to his feet and went to find Sybil. He found her curled in the foetal position on his side of the bed, hugging a toy hippo that her mother had knitted for her when she was a baby. Her tears had stopped, but the evidence of them still remained in the mascara streaks and smudged eyeliner across her face, coupled with the redness of her rubbed eyes.

Though the door to their bedroom was open, Tom knocked. He needed to know that he was welcome in the room before entering.

When Sybil heard the knock, she rolled over, sat up and looked at Tom. She smiled at him weakly. That was enough for him to know that he was alright to join her. He sat down on the bed next to her and let out a small sigh.

"Syb, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said quietly. "It takes two people to end up in this situation.

"Well, that's what I came to talk about. It took two of us to get here, so we're going to stick together. Just like we always do. We're going to take it one stage at a time, together," Tom said.

Sybil fell into Tom's arms, still gripping her toy hippo tightly in her hands.

"I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to break up with me after that row," Sybil said.

"I'm not going to break up with you just because of one argument, Syb," Tom said. "I'd rather face a tough future with you than an easy one without you." He kissed the top of her head.

"I suppose if you break up with me, we'll never get a chance to hike across the country together," Sybil said with a small laugh.

"I'm not giving up on that dream, love, and that means I'm not giving up on us," Tom said, tightening his grip around Sybil's shoulders. "We'll get an appointment with the doctor tomorrow and go from there, okay?"

"Thank you," Sybil said very quietly. "I love you."

* * *

The following morning, Sybil and Tom walked the short distance to the doctor's surgery hand in hand. Sybil refused to let go of Tom's hand unless it was absolutely necessary. Tom noticed that she was squeezing it more tightly than usual. Their time spent in the waiting room seemed never-ending. When her name was finally called to go to room 3, she walked down the hall with feigned confidence, which was provided by the knowledge that Tom was right by her side. After explaining their situation to the doctor, Sybil had to provide urine and blood samples for testing, which would be complete within a few hours.

Those few hours were the longest of their lives. They paced around the carpark; they walked up and down all the halls to which they were allowed access; they even walked around the block a few times. Sybil's mind wasn't calm enough for her to just stay seated and wait.

Finally they were called back into room 3 where they heard the words, "You're not pregnant."

Sybil walked out of the building on shaky legs, still tightly squeezing Tom's hands, if only to stop her own hands from shaking. As soon as the two of them rounded the corner, Tom pulled Sybil into a tight hug.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah," Sybil mumbled. "A little overwhelmed. It's just been the most emotional two days of my entire life."

Sybil's feelings were all over the place. She was relieved that she wasn't pregnant, but also a tad disappointed. She absolutely couldn't have dealt with having a child now, but it didn't alter the bittersweet feeling within her. Though Sybil and Tom had argued, Sybil felt that, oddly, this experience had brought them closer together. They were stronger now and even more inseparable than before.

The two of them walked back to the house, almost all the way in silence, but feeling closer than ever.

When they got in the house, they stood in the middle of the hallway, hand in hand, facing one another.

"Sybil, I love you," Tom said firmly. "It doesn't matter what sort of ordeal we go through next, I will always love you."

"You mean everything to me, Tom," Sybil said. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You need to promise me something, Sybil," Tom said.

"Anything."

"Promise me that we'll always stick together. That we can always count on one another and we'll always be there for each other."

"I promise that you will always have me, Tom. And I promise that no matter what is thrown in our path, we'll work hard, together, for a future that's worth having."

* * *

Years later, Sybil and Tom left their house with their degrees newly framed on the wall to hike the length of both Britain and Ireland. Tom was introduced into the life of marsh-hopping. He could have sworn that Sybil lost her bearings on purpose just so that she could see him get stuck in a marsh. Sybil learnt all about Tom's childhood adventures at his uncle's house, as Tom led her through all the paths he had forged as a child.

On their last evening in Ireland, before they were to fly back home and return to life as normal, Sybil shared news with Tom that she really was pregnant. This time around there was no arguing, no doubting and no tears. At least, no sad tears. Everything had turned out alright. Everything had turned out better than alright. Sybil and Tom belonged together and at that point, they knew that they were going to be spending the rest of their lives together.


End file.
